7. October 20- Wilder

Alight tap at the door confuses me for a moment. She hasn't talked to me for days. I've only seen her in the hallway a couple of times before she scurries into her room and slams her door.

"Wilder? Are you in there?"

I open the door and find her in her flannel, pink, and non-sexy pajamas, but I'd still peel them off her and kiss her nipples. I think about her tits more than I should. I bet they're pink, pointy, and perfect for sucking. Like hard butterscotch candies.

I took a woman home the other night because I couldn't stand the sexual frustration any longer, and the pouf is starting to look a little too worn to not cause any suspicion. Savannah won't talk to me, and I shut my eyes as my hands and mouth roamed over this woman. I can't even remember that woman's name, but I imagined it was Savannah under my body as I pressed into her.

I know it's purely sexual with Savannah. It's just lust. In fact, she's a little boring and too quiet for me to actually relate to. I need a ball buster. A woman that will drop to her knees and suck every drop from me and then fight with me. Someone with an edge. It's clear that Savannah and I are polar opposites.

"What's up?" I ask, leaning against the doorframe. I'm going for cool and sexy. Mysterious. I cock an eyebrow at her and smirk, hoping the look on my face works on her the way it does on other women.

"My mother wants to meet for dinner tomorrow night. Are you available?"

"Ah, you need me to play the part of the dutiful cuffing season partner."

She stares at my chest, and I flex my pectorals. She turns away, and I lean my head against the doorframe. My eyes are hooded. My bedroom eyes, as I call them. But she doesn't look at them. "Yes. I need you to play my boyfriend."

"Without any of the benefits, though, right? Hell, I can't even get pleasant conversation."

She sighs. "I'm sorry, Wilder. I haven't been as friendly and pleasant the last few days like I was the night we met."

"Why is that?" I ask, tilting my head. I'm curious. "Did I do something wrong? Do you not like me?"

"No," she says, her voice low. "I mean, I like you. I meant no on the first question. At first, I was just surprised by the contract. Then, I…"

She stops, and I think back to my first shower here. How she probably heard every filthy word out of my mouth and every time I moaned her name. I'm not shy about it. I want this woman. I want her more than I should at this point. I have a warm place to stay, a job for the winter doing oil changes at a fast lube place, and everything is looking up for me. It shouldn't be a deal breaker to have our relationship be anything but a fleeting transaction, benefitting us both.

But I want her. At least for one night to get her out of my system. Something about her intrigues me.

Her blush answers my question, and it also feeds my ego. She's no woman that sleeps around. I shook her with the words in the shower. Rattled a woman that's so steady in every other part of her life.

I hold up my hand. I can't let her get more words out. "Don't go any further. I know you heard me in the shower, and we're just going to move on and shove it under the rug," I say, swiping my hands like I'm moving a large object. "I'm not ashamed of it. You're hot. Sure, I thought about you when I was washing my dick? No biggie. I can admit it."

She opens her mouth to object but immediately closes it, shaking her head like she's been hit. After a few seconds, she takes a deep breath. "Will you come to dinner? I'd like you to be there. It'll give us a chance to start over and get to know each other. We're stuck together for the next few months."

"Not really. The stuck together part, I mean. You can kick me out any time. If you feel uncomfortable, I'll go."

"No!" she says, her voice so loud that I take a step back. "I mean, there's no need for that. You just have to know that…" she pauses, looking at the ceiling like she's searching for the right words. "You should know I'm shy and inexperienced in dating. I get awkward sometimes. It's part of why my mother wants me to cuff so urgently."

"Holy fuck, are you a virgin?"

"No, nothing like that," she says, and I clutch my chest with relief. Thank God. I have no desire to pop a woman's cherry again during a temporary cuffing. It makes February fifteenth miserable, and I don't want a scene with her clutching my leg as I try to run down the hall. I prefer not to think about that day with 2018.

"Will you come to dinner? I also need to be honest and tell you that Heather usually picks something chain-ish. Prepare for Chili's, Applebee's or Olive Garden."

"If Olive Garden is wrong, I don't want to be right."

"Really?" she asks, looking me up and down again. "You seem more of a local restaurant guy."

"Which proves that you haven't taken the time to get to know me, Savannah. I'm a ball of surprises. There is nothing wrong with a good margarita from Chili's, the mudslides at Applebee's, and there is nothing better than the bread sticks at Olive Garden. Do you really think me a snob? I live in a tent most of the year."

Fuck, I want to push her up against the wall, kiss her until her lips swell, and bury myself in her as she wraps her legs around me.

"I didn't think about that. I guess I'm used to my own preferences."

"Not going to work while we're roommates. We need to consider each other and communicate more."

"You're right," she whispers. "I've been standoffish and horrible to you."

I act like I'm thinking about it, and I squint my eyes, tapping my foot. I want to make her squirm a little, even if I want to be friends with this woman. Actually, not friends. I want to be lovers with her, but if she's like most women, you at least have to have the illusion of friendship before they spread their legs.

"Please come to dinner. I'd like you there."

I cross my arms and tilt my head to the side. "I'll come on one condition."

She clears her throat. "I suppose I deserve that for ignoring you for the last few days. What's the condition?" Is it my imagination, or does she look almost hopeful that I'll request something so filthy and she'll be unable to decline?

"You go for a ride on the back of my bike this weekend. We ride out to the state park, and we take a picnic to the overlook."

There. That should give us some time together so I can turn on the charm and worm my way into those granny panties. Well, she probably wears granny panties. As uptight as she's been the last few days, I don't see her wearing a lacy, black thong.

She looks at me, and her panties are temporarily forgotten. Those eyes. I can get lost in them, and they're the most beautiful eyes of any woman I've dated or fucked in years. Maybe ever. They're not only cosmetically gorgeous, but looking into her eyes is like seeing every emotion she has at once. She's not a good liar, and she'll never be able to play a round of poker with me. I'll see her hand with one look.

"Do we have a deal?" I smirk and turn on my charm that works on every woman. The tilt of my head. Biting my lip a sexy way. Looking them up and down until they burn with their own body heat.

She clears her throat, but she doesn't look away. Maybe she's not as awkward as she thinks she is. "I've never been on a motorcycle. I'm a little scared. They're death traps."

"I'm always careful, and I wear a helmet. I only have one, though, and it's yours for the ride out there."

A look of fear crosses her face, and I lean down to her ear. When I'm a centimeter from her skin, I inhale, exhaling only when I speak. "Just put your arms around me and hold on tight," I whisper. "I'll take good care of you."

I pull back, and her face is beet red. I'm not sure if it's my words or my proximity that did it.

She nods and holds out her hand for me to shake. "Deal," she mumbles.